


One-Across Four Letters Starts With 'L'

by Emjayelle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossword Puzzles, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emjayelle/pseuds/Emjayelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Freya owns a coffee shop, Arthur hates his job, but loves coffee, Merlin has smooth moves and a knack for words, and there's an unfair amount of caffeine-fuelled flirting happening over crossword puzzles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One-Across Four Letters Starts With 'L'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ingberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingberry/gifts).



> My attempt at a popular trope: the coffeeshop!AU. It was suppose to be a quick and fluffy 2K fic. It did not quite happened that way. Obviously.
> 
> Thanks to Mel and Becca. And a GINORMOUS thank you to Ing for listening to me whine, enabling my insanity, and the quick beta. You girls are the _best_

Arthur almost misses the tiny little coffee shop, _Freya’s_ , tucked away between a florist, whose front terrace is overflowing with plants—greenery stretching in all directions, spilling on the sidewalk, and tall plastic buckets full of colourful flowers—and a quaint bakery, with small round tables and white folding chairs out front. 

It’s the smell that stops him. The delicious, tantalizing, heavenly, and desperately craved smell of coffee. No, Arthur is _not_ a caffeine addict alright? It’s just... he has had a really, really shitty morning, and few things can make him feel better than highly caffeinated and overly sugary drinks.

The smell is coming through a small window beside the door, under which is a small shelf full of stirring sticks, packets of sugar and cups of milk, like a little drive-thru for coffee. Arthur smiles and goes in.

The shop is small, but warm, all wood and plants, and shiny chromed coffee machines. There are a few tables on the ground floor, in front and on the side of the counter, and at the back a few stairs lead to a small loft with a few more tables, taking advantage of the height of the room, rather than its lack of depth or width. It’s charming and homey, the sun slanting in through the tall windows behind him, softening shadows and bathing everything in warm browns and soft greens. Arthur is already more relaxed, it all seeps into him, settles around him like a warm blanket and refuses to let go.

The place is also practically empty, except for a cute, petite brunette behind the counter and a young man sitting at one of the tables beside the stairs, coffee cup in one hand and papers strewn all over in front of him. They both look up when he comes in with a jangle of tiny bells.

“Hi!” the woman says. “What can I do for you?”

Arthur smiles at her, taking a look at her nametag—Freya, must be the owner—before turning his attention to the blackboard behind her where everything is carefully written in yellow and white chalk. 

“Caffe latte, please,” he says after a moment.

“Cup or bowl?”

Arthur laughs a little and passes his hand through his hair. “Bowl, please.”

“That kind of day, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that kind of day.” He sighs. 

“Should be ready soon. You can sit down and I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

Arthur looks around. The man sitting by the stairs looks quickly back down at his papers when Arthur’s gaze falls on him. Arthur just nods at him when the man glances furtively back at him.

He goes up the stairs and sits in the corner by the rail. From there he can see the whole cafe and the street outside. He takes a few moments to breathe in deeply. Everything smells fresh and sugary, the aroma of coffee strong but not overwhelming. Faint bossa nova music plays in the background and he can hear Freya hum softly to it before her voice is swallowed by the sound of the coffee machine.

Arthur leans a bit on the rail and takes a look at the man below. He’s circling and writing in red pen on the papers in front of him, occasionally taking a sip from his cup. He’s a teacher perhaps, though he looks young. The essays he’s correcting look long though, longer than high school papers would be, but he seems too young to be a university professor.

This is something he and Morgana used to do all the time when they were younger, always stuck in some fancy event, or boring dinner or anything equally dull. They’d look at the people around them, try to guess who they are, how old, what they do or what they are like, before inevitably veering into pure fantasy and imagining them whole scandalous lives that became more and more salacious and inappropriate as they grew older. The whole thing became a habit and they kept doing it when they were in uni, or out at a pub, a restaurant, until Arthur found himself half doing it in his head even when he wasn’t with Morgana. He tries to keep it to the more tasteful, based in observable facts, side of the game though. Otherwise that’d possibly be a tad too creepy. Not that Morgana has ever had any such qualms. She’s a terrible influence.

By the time Freya climbs the stairs carefully holding a plate with his bowl of coffee and some biscuits, so as to not spill any of it, he has concluded that the man is either a high school teacher, and these essays are not as complicated or long as they look, or he’s a uni professor that looks younger than he is—especially since Arthur can’t see his face properly—or a uni student himself, helping with corrections, perhaps doing his Masters or PhD.

He feels like Sherlock Holmes.

Freya smiles at him when she puts his coffee in front of him. He cups the bowl in his hands and lets the warmth spread through his fingers.

“Are you the owner?” he asks with a small movement of his chin to indicate her nametag.

Her hand goes to it, but she smiles even wider.

“I am.”

“It’s a really nice establishment you have. Really, really nice.” And Arthur means it. It’s calm and warm, clean and airy. It smells nice and makes you want to curl inside of it and never step foot outside again.

Freya blushes.

“You haven’t even tasted the coffee yet.”

“It’s the best coffee in the world,” the man downstairs says loudly.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Freya shouts back, but she has a pleased look on her face.

Arthur takes a look downstairs and is met with large blue eyes behind black-framed glasses, sharp cheekbones, and a wicked grin. Arthur grins back then raises an eyebrow at Freya. “Best in the world, huh?”

Freya waves her hand dismissively in front of her.

“Best. In. The World.” the man, _Merlin_ , yells once more.

Freya just laughs and walks toward the stairs.

“Hope you like it, sir,” she says over her shoulder, before going back down.

Arthur takes one more look at Merlin, but he’s back to correcting his papers, head bent low over them. 

Arthur brings his bowl of coffee slowly to his lips and takes a small, scorchingly good, sip. He has to make an effort not to moan. It’s sweet and bitter and smooth on his tongue, just in the right amounts, strong and warm down his throat, spreading through his whole body. He lets out a sigh—it may or may not come out more as a contented moan. God, this must be what heaven feels like. He relaxes in his chair, loosening his muscles. Can he just stay here and never go out ever again? Surely one can subsist a fair amount of time on coffee and biscuits, right?

His gaze drifts back down once more and meets Merlin’s eyes again. Merlin raises his eyebrows in a _Right?_ gesture and Arthur nods. Right.

Freya is at the counter apparently working on a crossword puzzle in the newspaper.

“Definitely, the best coffee I’ve ever had,” Arthur says loud enough for her to hear. She looks up and smiles back.

“Glad to hear it!”

Merlin beams at him. Then he blushes and looks back down at his papers. Arthur chuckles low and drinks some more.

*****

“Like zabaglione. Four letters. Starts with an ‘E’,” Freya says.

Merlin furrows his brow in thought as he chews on the tip of his pen. 

It’s the third monday, after that first time, that Arthur is at Freya’s. 

He comes in at the same time, and Freya is always there, behind the counter, and so is Merlin at the same table. It’s already a bit familiar somehow, and Arthur has taken to greeting Freya by her first name when he comes in and nods at Merlin, who always nods back with a blinding grin. He doesn’t really talk to them. Just order something new—thinks he wants to try everything on the menu—sits at the same spot in the loft by the rail, drinks his coffee, read some work papers or a book, and listens to them chat. 

Merlin is usually working on something, but today he only has a novel with him, now resting face down on the table while Freya asks for his help with her crossword puzzle. Which seems to mean asking him every single questions.

He’s good though, Merlin. He’s really, really good.

“Eggy,” he says after a while, and Freya writes it down.

Arthur looks down at his own newspaper opened at the crossword puzzle page where he half filled it up this morning while eating toasts. He wrote the same answer. He gives himself a small mental tap on the back. Well done, Arthur.

“Went to and fro. Six letters. Starts with ‘sw’.”

 _Swayed_ , Arthur thinks. 

It goes on like this until the whole puzzle is filled. Sometimes they’re interrupted by customers coming in and while Freya prepares their orders, Arthur tries to finish filling it by himself. 

When it’s time for him to leave, the puzzle is finished and he’s happy that he was only missing one word—which Merlin didn’t find either, and it’s not really a competition, but it makes him happy nonetheless. He goes back down and brings Freya his empty cup.

“Thank you, sir. Have a nice day!” she says as he’s about to leave.

He turns around and looks at her.

“Arthur."

“See you next Monday then, Arthur?”

He nods at her and, after a moment of hesitation, at Merlin as well, before leaving.

***

The next monday the coffee shop is packed with people. Arthur stops on the threshold stunned, only to remember that _of course_ it would be since it’s a holiday. He himself didn’t have to go to work today. He can’t quite shake his disappointment though.

He scans the shop and sees no free places. The loft is full, all tables downstairs are as well, and people are waiting outside to get their coffee through the little drive-thru window.

“Hi, Arthur!” Freya says while ringing up a customer. “Sorry, it’s a bit busy today.”

“No problem," Arthur says, and gets in line to order. 

There’s another girl there with Freya, making the coffees and taking orders at the window. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised at that. He had never seen anybody else help Freya before, but it’s obvious she would have other employees helping her once in a while.

But still, he resents all these people who dare invade his little weekly haven and disturb the only moment in his week where he feels he can truly relax—where said relaxation doesn’t involved a copious amount of alcohol at a pub with Gwaine and Leon on Friday nights, and a Saturday spent on the couch nursing a hangover.

He orders a coffee to go and Freya offers him a quick apologetic smile. He takes a look around just to see if maybe someone has left a free place somewhere, until his eyes land on Merlin, at the same tiny two-place table as usual, in the corner by the stairs.

Merlin gives him a small wave and a smile—a bit shy and a bit daring and how that is possible Arthur doesn’t know—and pushes the chair in front of him with his foot in a clear invitation.

Arthur hesitates for a moment, but makes his way through the people. He sits down with a sigh.

“Thanks,” he says. 

Merlin just shrugs. “I’m Merlin, by the way.”

Arthur wants to say he knows, but stops himself. He’s not sure if Merlin would think it’s weird that Arthur has basically spent the last few weeks just hanging out on the outskirts listening to Freya and him doing crossword puzzles.

“Arthur,” he says instead.

Merlin smiles and looks back down at his book, biting his lip.

Arthur grabs the newspaper he had folded under his arm, a pen stuck in between the pages and opens it to the puzzle. He hadn’t had the time to start it this morning and had been planning on working on it at the same time as Merlin and Freya, but he guesses now he’ll just have to try and solve it himself.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees Merlin glance at it.

“Wanna help?” 

“Sure.” 

Something warm unfurls inside Arthur when Merlin scoots his chair a bit closer to be able to lean over and read more properly. He takes a large gulp of coffee until he can’t distinguish which warmth is filling him.

They go back and forth for a while, Merlin looking at the horizontal clues, Arthur at the vertical ones, asking each other questions when they’re not sure. 

Arthur likes the sound of Merlin’s voice when he’s so close. It’s low and soft, but steady. Merlin might have looked shy, but Arthur doesn’t think he is really. He likes the way Merlin traces the lines of the puzzle with a long finger and how he impatiently grabs the pen a few times to jot something down in the margins. 

Arthur laughs when Merlin put the tip of it in his mouth, seemingly unaware, until he realises and looks at him, eyes wide.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says to Arthur and grimaces at the pen as if it’s the pen’s fault for somehow having jumped into his mouth. 

“No worries, mate.”

Merlin digs around in his bag for a moment and gives Arthur one of his pens.

“I swear I didn’t chew on this one. Keep it.”

Arthur wants to protest. It’s just a bloody pen after all. But Merlin looks like a kicked puppy and really no grown man should look like that. It’s a bit irresistible. Which, wow, unfair really.

“So what do you do, Merlin?” Arthur asks not looking up from the puzzle.

“I’m working on my Master’s degree,” Merlin says. “That’s ‘clamored’,”

“What?’

“Twenty-Eight Down. Clamored.”

Arthur takes a look and nods. “Good call. What do you study?”

“Children’s Literature,” Merlin says, his voice wavering a bit, and when Arthur looks up at him, there’s a sort of daring gleam in his eyes, as if he expects Arthur to mock him or something. Arthur thinks it’s brilliant, actually.

“My favorite was always ‘The Phantom Tollbooth’,” he says.

Merlin blinks at him a few times, then smiles a wide, blinding smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, dimples in his cheeks. It changes his whole face and shows all of his teeth and Arthur suddenly wants to lick them and wow okay, that’s a bit weird. 

“You’ve got good taste,” Merlin says approvingly, and maybe a bit surprised. Arthur isn’t sure if he should be pleased or offended.

“The best,” he replies with a quirked eyebrow.

Merlin just rolls his eyes and looks back down at their crossword puzzle, but Arthur can still see the quirk of his lips.

The shop has emptied a little. Arthur stretches his back and looks at Freya and her employee work. Freya is all smiles and nice words, ringing customers orders and chatting with them. The other girl is quiet and a bit hunched on herself, but Arthur can see her hands sure and fast on the machines, never missing a beat and nodding when Freya tells her an order.

“That’s Sefa,” Merlin says following Arthur’s gaze. “She works here part-time. She’s a student like me. Undergrad though. There’s also Deagal, who works on the weekends. Nice bloke. Takes care of his sick sister a lot.”

“You seem to know everybody,” Arthur says, turning back to look at Merlin.

Merlin just grins. “Yeah, well, I like coffee, and Freya’s—”

“—the best coffee in the world." And he has to agree. 

Fuck, this place, not just the coffee, is the best place he has found in a long time that didn’t want to make him murder someone (work) or bury himself in takeaways, bad TV, and wallowing (home). If he’s honest with himself he’d probably admit that the fact he feels this way is not completely due to the place and the absolutely delicious coffee, but also maybe it’s a bit because of Freya and Merlin and maybe even those fucking crossword puzzles he never used to give a damn about except when he needed something to do at the table during Sunday brunches with his father. 

Sefa comes to their table to refill their cups of coffee. 

“Thanks,” Merlin says, frowning at the puzzle. He’s been stuck on 15-across.

“Do you think it’s going to break down and tell you the answer if you stare at it long enough?” Arthur tells him.

“Oh, ha ha. Drink your coffee.”

“Thank you, Sefa,” Arthur says as she finishes pouring. “That’s very nice of you.”

Sefa only ducks her head and blushes faintly. Merlin snorts.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you laughing at my manners, Merlin?" Arthur asks with fake affrontement. 

Merlin just giggles a bit. “Do you also carry a handkerchief and help maidens step over puddles by laying your jacket on the ground?”

Arthur scoffs. “Please, that’s so passé, I carry them over in my big manly arms, obviously.”

“I’m sure you do.” Merlin nods, mock-serious. “Do they also swoon after such display of manliness and decorum?”

“I’d consider it a personal failure and affront to my very person if they didn’t.”

“Of course. How rude of them.”

“Damn right.”

Arthur takes a sip of coffee to hide his widening smile and the flush he feels spreading inside his chest, crawling up his neck. Merlin bites his lip and giggles some more in his fist—and really it shouldn’t be so attractive, but it is, in a strange way, very endearing. Arthur has the sudden urge to push off Merlin’s fringe from his forehead and brush his cheekbone with his thumb and he has no idea where that’s coming from.

Well, fuck.

He clears his throat. “So... Are you and Freya, um, you know...”

Merlin’s face falls a little. “Together? No. We’re just old friends. I’ve known her since middle school. She’s my best mate.”

“That’s... nice.” He can’t quite explain the relief he feels at that.

“Is it?” Merlin asks, cocking his head to the side.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Merlin says, shaking his head. He smooths the newspaper in front of him, pale skin a stark contrast against the greys and black and Arthur wants to wraps his hand around his fingers maybe, just to stop him. Because fidgeting is annoying.

“She’s single, you know,” Merlin mumbles and darts a look at Arthur quickly.

“Who? Freya?”

“Yeah.”

Merlin is now looking intently at him and Arthur isn’t sure what...oh. _Oh_. Well, that’s a bit awkward. How does Arthur tell Merlin that he’s not interested in Freya _at all_ without insulting Merlin’s best mate and without blurting out something inappropriate like _I’m really not into vaginas, Merlin. I quite like cocks, actually_?

Fortunately, he’s saved by the girl in question when she drops in a chair beside their table. The shop is now quieter and only a few customers are left, quietly chatting at some tables.

Freya sighs. “Thank fuck. I needed a break.”

“Everything okay?” Arthur says.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. Everything alright for you?” She frowns at Merlin.

Merlin beams at her, but even Arthur can see it’s a bit forced and he knows he’s missing something. “Yeah, we’re doing the puzzle in today’s paper.”

“Oooookay. I’ll be going next door for a bit, Sefa will stay here until I’m back.”

“Sure thing, Frey. Bring me back—”

“—a lemon square, I know. See you later Arthur,” Freya says on her way out.

“Bye, Freya!” Arthur turns to Merlin. “Next door?”

By now Merlin is back to his cheery self, and Arthur almost thinks he imagined his brief sullenness.

“The bakery. Our friend Percy owns it.”

“Do you know everyone around here, Merlin?”

Merlin laughs. “Pretty much. Percy owns the bakery, Freya the coffee shop, and our other friend, Mithian, the flower shop next door.”

“How did that even happened?”

“Um, funny story actually. We were all having this huge party after graduation, and we were all sloshed, and a bit sad to be honest, none of us quite knowing what to do now, you know, how the future is scary and all that.”

Arthur just raises an eyebrow at him and Merlin takes a considering look. “Well maybe not you. You seem like the kind of person who always knows exactly what he wants and how to get it. Wanker.”

Arthur gives him an unimpressed look. “I apologise for being a well-adjusted and driven person, Merlin. Clearly I got it all wrong.”

Merlin just pushes against his shoulder with a small laugh. Arthur is amazed for a moment at how they got here so fast, and how natural it feels. It reminds him of Leon and how when Leon was the new kid in ninth grade Arthur asked him if he wanted to play footie with them, and Leon said yes, and they were never far apart after that. It had just happened, falling into each other’s lives as if they belonged.

“Whatever,” Merlin says. “Mithian was going on about how she wished she could have something just simple and nice, like a flower shop. Her mother used to have one when she was younger and she’d always wanted one of her own. And then Freya and Percy bemoaned the fact that they couldn’t have what they wanted because rent is too expensive blah blah. And _then_ I think eventually they sort of decided to buy this big office place here and divide it in three and share the cost or something. I must admit I’m a bit fuzzy on the details, I think I was having a rather lovely discussion with a bottle of wine at that point.”

Arthur laughs. “Well, _that_ , I can relate to.”

“Wine is such a good conversationalist.”

“The best.”

“Finally someone who understands our love,” Merlin says putting a hand on his chest and fluttering his eyelashes.

Arthur just laughs and looks at his watch.

“Shit. I have to run. I have to meet a friend,” he says wrinkling his nose.

“Wow, Arthur, so much enthusiasm.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and pushes his chair back.

“It’s not that. It’s my mate Leon. He’s going to ask my sister to marry him, poor soul, and he wants me to help him choose a ring. As if I’d know better what Morgana likes.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that if it’s not satisfactory, she’s just going to blame me. Leon probably knows that, and I bet that’s why he asked me to come with him, arsehole.”

“Well,” Merlin says rubbing his hands on his jeans. “I’m glad we finally got around to talking a bit.”

Arthur stands in front of him, a sudden fondness coming over him, and he can’t quite understand it because it’s not like he really knows Merlin. Maybe it’s more the sudden certainty that he _wants_ to know him more. And that’s a bit new actually. He might even have felt this way the moment he set foot in Freya’s coffee shop that first time. Because it’s simple and nice and comforting and so is Merlin, in a way, and Arthur wants.

He really, really does.

***

“I don’t think that’s good,” Arthur says frowning at the puzzle in front of him.

Merlin snorts. “Course it is, what else could it be?”

“I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure that that’s not it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one, “moored” has six letters not five and I’m pretty sure it doesn't apply to planes.”

Merlin grabs the paper and looks at it carefully. “Damn.”

Arthur pets him on the head. “It’s okay Merlin. It’s not your fault you can’t spell. I’m sure there are extraneous circumstances.”

Merlin bats at his hand. “Sod off.”

Once again it’s just Merlin, Freya and him in the shop today and Arthur—while reluctantly grateful to the hordes of customers that made him and Merlin finally talk to each other—is quite happy to be back to their normal quietness of early monday afternoons.

Arthur’s been coming to the coffee shop every Monday a while now. He looks forward to each of them with growing anticipation, his Sundays seeming needlessly long. He looks forward to the atmosphere, to walking through the door and letting the now familiar smell embrace him, the smooth music filling his ears along with the whistle of the coffee machine and Freya’s quiet humming—her happy greeting and _Hey Arthur, what’s it going to be today?_. He always chats with her while she makes his order and then he goes to sit with Merlin who always closes his computer or book, or puts his paper aside, stopping whatever he’s doing—Arthur would feel bad about this if it wasn’t for how Merlin really doesn’t seem to mind and also that Arthur is a selfish bastard. Together they do the crossword puzzle in the newspaper while talking about nothing in particular.

It’s a sort of routine, but it always feels new, yet comforting in its familiarity. Arthur loves it. He can spend the rest of the week yelling at people, or being yelled at, pulling his hair out and dealing with disgruntled clients, he knows he has this moment all to himself.

The bells over the door ring and a man comes in. Freya turns around to greet him and as soon as she sees him her face splits into the widest smile Arthur has ever seen her make. He raises an eyebrow at Merlin.

“That’s Owen,” Merlin whispers, leaning toward him and Arthur can feel the ghost of his breath on his ear and tries not to shiver. “They’ve been seeing each other for a couple of weeks. Totally besotted if you ask me. Bit sickening.”

Arthur laughs. “Good for her.”

Merlin pulls back and looks at him questioningly. “It doesn’t... it doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it… oh, for fuck’s sake Merlin, I do not have a crush on Freya.”

“No?”

“No. If I did, I’d have asked her out ages ago.”

“Bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” Merlin grins.

“Please, what woman could resist this,” Arthur says, gesturing to his body.

“What woman indeed. And here I thought they’d go for your charming personality.”

“That too.”

Merlin shakes his head, and Arthur looks at him from the corner of his eyes.

The truth is he loves his Mondays at Freya’s so much he even moves meetings around at work so he won’t lose the time to go, but he can’t even pretend it’s only because he likes the place and the soothing abilities it has on his mind, or even the incredible coffee. Sure that helps a lot, and it’s a bit what got him coming back the second time, and the third and probably the fourth, but at one point it became more about the people as well. Freya. And Merlin. And even, when Arthur finally got to meet them, Percy—a giant of a man who somehow found his vocation in baking cupcakes—as well as Mithian—a gorgeous brunette with large glasses and magical green thumbs. 

They’re wonderful people, really, and it’s like Arthur finds himself falling in love with them in a way, the way he fell in love with Freya’s shop as soon as he stepped in it. Like a moment of mutual recognition.

He looks at Owen and Freya making loving eyes at each other and giggling into their hands, blushing like children.

“Ugh.”

Merlin laughs. “Like I said, bit sickening.”

Arthur cocks his head to the side, trailing his eyes down Owen’s body. “Nice arse though, Freya’s got good taste.”

He grins when he hears Merlin choke on his coffee. Well done, Pendragon.

“Yeah,” Merlin wheezes, “it _is_ a nice arse isn’t it?”

Arthur only takes a sip of his coffee and says nothing, though he can’t quite refrain from smiling, nor can he stop the warmth that spreads inside of him. The one he doesn’t even have the energy anymore to blame on the coffee.

He’s happy.

He sits beside Merlin and they both lean down over the crossword puzzle and argue over words and clues and make a small competition out of it. Merlin eats the tips of all the pens and feels sorry afterwards. He takes notes in the margins, because neither of them is apparently smart enough to just bring a pencil instead. Sometimes they talk about Merlin’s thesis, or Arthur’s work, or how Mithian’s new employee is really into activism, or how Morgana _did_ like the ring and no Arthur hadn’t been avoiding her for three days after the proposal just in case.

When Owen leaves, Freya comes to sit with them, a dreamy, happy look on her face and a general glow of happiness following her.

“Nice bloke.” Arthur nods at the door.

“He is, isn't he?” Freya smiles.

“Yeah, Arthur was just telling me how he approves of his arse,” Merlin says cheerfully. 

Freya only raises her eyebrows at Arthur, then smirks at Merlin. “It seems that Arthur might have good taste.”

“He does, doesn’t he?”

“Well he still has to prove it a bit.” Freya glances at him.

“Arthur is right here and can hear you.”

“I wonder what else Arthur approves of,” Freya says.

“I wonder too."

“I bet it’s wonderful.

“Wonderful, and charming, and maybe a bit pretty?”

“Definitely.”

“Arthur is going to leave now, you tossers.”

***

When Arthur walks in one particular Monday, his eyes go automatically to Merlin’s table—as he calls it—and finds it empty. Disappointment hits him like a punch in the face and takes him completely unaware. Because here’s the cafe, as it always is, here’s Freya, here are the smells he loves and the music and everything else for that matter. But no Merlin.

“Hey Arthur!”

“Hey Freya,” he says walking to the counter. “Where’s Merlin?”

Freya smiles a bit sadly. “There was a change in his schedule. He told me to say hi though. Also, apparently, two across is ‘plantation’”.

“Oh. Right.”

Freya makes his order and he sits at Merlin’s table, opening his newspaper. It doesn’t feel right though. It feels like something is missing and Arthur can’t shake the way his stomach is twisted or how uncomfortable the chair seems to be suddenly and especially how he doesn’t care about the fucking crossword puzzle. 

It starts raining outside, the light taking a grey edge and Arthur feels weirdly validated.

He’s confused and annoyed. He’s also weirdly angry at Merlin for not being here, which is stupid and unreasonable, but he can’t really help it and that forces him to _really_ look at things because he hates it when he doesn’t understand something. 

Freya comes to sit with him and they talk for a bit, but his mind isn’t in it at all. It’s the first time he’s gone without seeing Merlin in weeks and it’s just... something is off. He takes a sip of his coffee, burns his tongue at the same time as a realization strikes him right in the chest. He chokes on his coffee and Freya gently taps him on the back then gets up to get him some water. He coughs and his throat burns, but all he can think about is how he _misses_ Merlin.

It was wrong not to have Merlin smiling at him as soon as he walked through the door, and it’s wrong now not to have him make some clever quip or another about Arthur not being able to drink properly. It’s wrong in so many tiny ways, and bloody hell, it’s wrong to be doing that fucking crossword puzzle on his own.

In truth, he likes that he now knows how Merlin takes his coffee and how he prefers texting because he hates answering his mobile. He likes how, when Percy comes in, Merlin basically jumps on him, wraps his long legs around his waist, and hugs him just to see Percy blush a little (because apparently the man is a puppy or something equally cute). He likes that when Mithian comes in and they are all having a bit of a chat, Merlin’s face lights up. He talks rapidly with his hands in a way that makes Arthur both want to watch and grab his fingers to stop him fidgeting. It’s so obvious that Merlin _cares_. He likes the way Merlin laughs, ducking his head like he’s shy, but really he’s just hiding how pleased he is. 

He likes this place, and he likes Freya and how it always smells of coffee and flowers and sugar. He likes the way the light pools into the room on sunny days, and the sounds of the machines, the bells over the door. He likes Percy and Mithian and Sefa and everything else. 

But it’s Merlin really, in the end, that makes everything seem cohesive and complete and lovely in a way that Arthur didn’t know how to recognize. 

It’s Merlin. 

Damn it all. He’s a fucking idiot. Of course it’s Merlin.

When he’s ready to leave he kisses Freya on her cheeks as usual, pays for his coffee.

“Can you tell Merlin—”

“I’ll tell him you said hi when he comes on Wednesday, yeah?” Freya says leaning her chin on her hand, a knowing smile on her face that makes Arthur narrow his eyes at her.

“Wednesday?”

“Yeah, he’ll be here on Wednesday. Mid-afternoon.”

“Oh. Well. Tell him I said hi?”

“I will.”

There’s a moment of silence where Arthur’s not sure what to do.

“Bye, Arthur.”

“Bye, Freya.”

***

On Wednesday Arthur stops by the bakery, weirdly nervous and excited. He’s aware that walking into the coffee shop will probably give him away, because he suspects he hasn’t been as subtle as he thought he was even though he wasn’t aware he had to be. If anything, it’s clear Freya suspected something. He can only hope that Merlin was a bit oblivious as well, so his humiliation isn’t as big. Not that it would matter anyway.

When he enters the bakery he goes straight to the counter where Percy is arranging some pastries in the display by the cash register. Surprisingly, Mithian is there as well. When she sees him, her eyes go wide and she turns to Percy who looks at Arthur, then back at her. Then they both look at him and back at each other and now Arthur’s confused.

“It’s Wednesday,” Mithian says to Percy.

Percy nods. “It’s Wednesday.”

They both smile.

“Um, right. Hello to you too,” Arthur says. “Lemon square, Percy, please.”

Mithian gasps and smiles wider at Percy. “Lemon square,” she says.

“Lemon square.” Percy grins.

Apparently Arthur just walked in the Twilight Zone. Or he’s missing something. Again. Damnit.

“Don’t you have a shop to run, Mithian?” he grumbles.

She waves her hand dismissively in front of her. “Kara is taking care of it for now.”

Oh, Arthur remembers Kara. “She’s the one that ranted at me for having leather shoes, isn’t she?”

Mithian nods. “She’s a bit... zealous about her ideals, you could say, but her flower arrangements are to die for.”

“Well, if her flower arrangements are to die for, all’s good then.” He’s not bitter, he’s _not_.

Percy rings up Arthur’s lemon square and wraps it up in a paper brown bag for him. “Anything else, Arthur?”

“No, thanks Percy.”

“Going to Freya’s now?” Mithian asks.

“Yes, I am. I guess I’ll see you both later?” 

“Oh you will,” Mithian says with a grin and Arthur decides to ignore her completely. Her and Percy and their smirking conspiringly at each other, and their inside jokes and oh god they _know_. 

He resists the urge to look back at them when he leaves. 

Arthur doesn’t let himself be too nervous about it and enters the coffee shop before he has time to think about it twice. As soon as she sees him Freya squeals excitedly and claps her hands and it becomes all too clear that there won’t be any subtlety to be had in all this.

So he walks to Merlin’s table, where Merlin is sitting, as he’s _supposed_ to be—where Arthur can find him and sit next to him and tell him that the answer to today’s puzzle’s twenty-down is ‘crazy about’ and would you look at that coincidence. As he comes close to the table, Merlin sees him and stands up fast, grinning at him and Arthur is a bit at a loss as to what to say so he just hands over the paper bag he’s holding.

“I bought you a lemon square,” he says and cringes a little. Way to sound pathetic, Arthur, really, it’s some smooth moves you’ve got there.

But Merlin only takes the bag in his hands, eyes wide and a bit surprised. He’s careful with it like the whole thing is fragile and could break if not handled very carefully. There’s a fondness in his eyes when he looks back at Arthur. It makes his breath catch in his throat and his heart hammer against his ribcage.

He feels ridiculous and a bit inadequate, like he’s fifteen again and asking Rosemary Byrd to the school dance. But then again, she said yes and he got to snog her in the janitor’s closet so maybe he’ll be lucky again.

He takes a deep breath. “I’d like to take you out for dinner, if you want,” he says. “I’d invite you for coffee, but I think we’re a bit past that now.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, but he bites his lip and smiles again, still holding the stupid paper bag to his chest.

“I’d like that,” he says. “Very much.”

“Good. I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Please, do.”

Arthur brings a hand to Merlin’s face and rubs his thumb over his cheekbone. He remembers vaguely having wanted to do that pretty early on. It’s a bit amazing that he is doing it now and maybe he got lost in the moment because Merlin huffs an impatient laugh and leans forward to plant his lips on Arthur’s.

It’s soft and warm, and far too chaste, but Merlin tastes like coffee and cream and something completely his own. Arthur just wants more.

“I was really hoping you’d come,” Merlin whispers against Arthur’s lips.

“I was mostly hoping I didn’t get the lemon square wrong,” Arthur says back with a grin.

Merlin pulls back a little to give him a punch on the shoulder and darts back in for another kiss effectively cutting what Arthur was about to say, so it becomes just an incomprehensible noise between their lips.

“So eloquent, Arthur,” Merlin teases. “I’m completely wooed by your verbosity.”

“Oh, shut it. We can’t all have your superior skills with words. I least I have manly arms to take you over puddles so you don’t wet your dainty feet.” 

“Yeah, about that...” Merlin says, wrinkling his nose, “I may have cheated a bit on the puzzles.”

Arthur just looks at him dubiously, not really sure he understands where this is going or why Merlin is talking about crossword puzzles when he could be kissing Arthur instead.

Merlin looks down and blushes a bit. “I was sort of banking on you, well, liking men for one, because that’s always a plus, really, would be a bit of a waste if you asked me but—

“Merlin.”

“Yeah, right. So I was also kind of hoping you liked smart ones, too. I know it’s a bit ridiculous, but it was the only way I could think of to get your attention.”

For a moment Merlin looks both insecure and sort of annoyed at himself, but Arthur can only laugh. “You’re a smooth one, aren’t you?”

“Oi! Don’t take the piss. It’s hard you know, when you look like me... and you look like you and well...”

Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist. “Merlin. If you are seriously telling me that you have some kind of ridiculous case of self-image issues, I must warn you that we will have to forgo our dinner and I will have to do very inappropriate things to you to show you how very, very stupid you are.”

Merlin grins at him, playful and sweet at the same time and _fuck_ he really, really is a goner. 

“Well, if that’s the case,” Merlin says, “I must let you know that I’m way too skinny, and my ears are too big, and I’m sorry I’m generally an uncoordinated mess, and I have an ugly mole behind my right knee and my second toe is longer than the big one and—”

“Right. That’s it. You asked for it. Where do you live?”

Merlin laughs, loud and bright, and shoves his things into his bag. 

“On the way, let’s find a puddle somewhere so I can test these manly arms of yours.”

“Only if you promise to swoon afterwards.”

“Deal.”

Merlin grins at him, re-adjusting his bag on his shoulder and Arthur grabs his hand, wrapping his fingers around Merlin’s—tight and warm and familiar and _right_. To stop him fidgeting. Obviously.

**Author's Note:**

> If you see any mistakes and/or typos, or have issues with anything in my fics, please free to contact me on [tumblr](http://emjayelle.tumblr.com) (anonymous option is on) or on [livejournal](http://emjayelle.livejournal.com). Thank you.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] One-Across Four Letters Starts With "L"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/843740) by [lostlenore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlenore/pseuds/lostlenore)




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